She Was an Angel, Too
by milkmoth
Summary: Meg Giry knew more than anyone could have known. She was mixed up in the whole ordeal. She had her own secrets, as well as answers that were withheld from her. Now, she's going to find out what's going on in the Paris Opera. INCOMPLETE.
1. Meg

Chapter 1: Introduction to Meg Giry

DISCLAIMER: I do not own "The Phantom of the Opera". The following is just a fan fiction, and it's just for fun. :)

Meg Giry. She remembered learning to write her name when she was young. Later when she was a little older and a great deal wiser, she looked back and tried to remember what that name meant to her at the time.

Meg had blonde hair and brown eyes. She was said to have quite the pretty smile. She was said to resemble an angel. She took great pride in this; for she was very vain. But it must be noted, she was not really beautiful; just pretty.

She'd always been quiet. She wasn't very smart, but she was practical. Although Meg had a dreamy side to her as well, she did not exercise it very often. Really, good looks, some talent, and a head on your shoulders were all you needed to work in the opera. No time for daydreams.

She remembered herself at seven, finally thinking to ask who her father was. She remembered her mother looking away with – could it be? - slightly wet eyes. She wondered what had made Mother cry like that. She only wanted to know who her father was. True, quite a number of the other ballerinas didn't have fathers. Of course, they often didn't know their mothers either. So she always sensed that there was something strange going on - she, after all, had a mother.

By that time Meg had learned to use her ears. No one liked a lowly ballerina mouthing off, but if that same lowly ballerina stayed quiet… why, something so lowly, so _invisible,_ could easily be ignored. In this manner she learned that Carlotta (though she would never have called the diva by her first name, she probably would have been smacked for being bold) was ascending to the place of leading soprano. Meg learned all sorts of gossip, and she could never get enough. She enjoyed the dancing, true, but it was hard work. Distractions were welcome.

One day, Meg caught a group of older ballerinas talking backstage before an opera. She could only catch small bits of their somewhat cryptic conversation.

"Did you hear...?"

"She's taking in…"

"Not even her own child…"

They raised their heads from their conversation and suddenly saw her, standing there, just watching them. Each gave her a peeved look and went back to stretching. Meg wondered what they were talking about. She could have used some new gossip. Then, without another thought of it, she turned around and joined the younger ballerinas for stretches.

But really, she should have thought of it more. The event about which the ballerinas were speaking was going to change Meg's life forever.

a/n: Any suggestions are greatly appreciated. I would most like to know, how I can improve, even if it's just one little thing like "more dialogue" or "longer chapters". Oh,andI know this one's short... it's more of a prolouge if anything.If there's something you especially liked or disliked, please point it out. Thank you!


	2. Christine and the Song

Ch. 2: Introduction to Christine Daae

The next day, Christine came to live and train with the ballerinas.

It struck Meg as odd, really. That this girl she didn't even know was coming to live with them. It didn't occur to Meg that this was the same thing that the girls were talking about yesterday.

It didn't make sense to Meg why her mother would go all the way to the outskirts of France – taking days off of work for the long, expensive, miserable carriage ride – to collect this little orphan. There were children - children who were much less of a burden to hire - lined up near the opera in hopes of becoming a dancer and escaping a life on the street. Why go through so much trouble for this particular girl? Rumor had it that the girl's father was very famous. Perhaps that had something to do with it.

When the girl came, Meg could not help but look at her with disdain. She was all eyes – pale, pale skin with big, big blue eyes. She had smooth, dark brown curls. A nice nose. A nice figure.

Truly, this girl was beautiful. Meg hated her at once.

Christine was old, too. Meg, at the time, was nine. Christine was eleven. Eleven! Eleven years was much too old to train yourself to stand on your very tippy-toes, too old to make one's body flexible, too old to learn the rigorous training of a ballerina. Meg predicted that Christine would fail at once.

Meg, of course, was wrong.

Meg was the best young dancer in the whole opera. Christine was a natural, though. It was almost as though the music was inside of her. Meg knew that Christine wasn't the sharpest needle in the batch (no common sense at all; and so silly), but this was the one thing at which Christine seemed almost… well, a genius. Nothing could compare with the years of training instilled in Meg, but Christine was certainly competition with her graceful, if somewhat untrained, movements.

Of course, Meg was still one of the most popular ballerinas. Everyone wanted to be her playmate, and Christine was left alone at night; her cot pushed into the corner by the other girls. And while the other ballerinas stayed up light, giggling and telling secrets, Meg caught the sound of Christine weeping. It was quiet, but it was there.

Meg thought of what Christine had to lament. Well, her father's death. Her life as a ballerina. Meg had heard that Christine's father had been a very famous violinist; but one who was also very in debt. She surely would have had a more respectful future than the life of a ballerina if her father had paid his debts.

One night, as she was almost drifting off to sleep, Meg heard a voice. A beautiful voice. A beautiful voice singing a beautiful song.

But of course, she was dreaming. It was no doubt Christine weeping again.

The first song that voice sang… The melody haunted her for the rest of her life.

a/n: Hello! Once again, constructive criticism is welcome. Mostly I would like to know if I made Christine too Mary-Sueish in this chapter. I promise, she gets a little ditzy later on. And could you please review and tell me how to let my stories have unsigned reviews? Much thanks. Please review. Oh, and this is the last short chapter - for a while, anyway… pinky swear!


	3. Haunted

Chapter 3

a/n It's my last chapter for a while. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own in any way the magnificent musical/novel, "The Phantom of the Opera".

Meg couldn't eat and couldn't sleep. Ever since she heard that voice singing… Well, perhaps this whole ordeal was born of her imagination labeled by others as "overactive" but Meg could have sworn she heard a voice – a lovely man's voice; one that was almost supernatural.

She withdrew from the other girls. She became a loner. At night, she stayed awake as long as she could, so that she might hear the Angel's voice. (For that was all it could be – an angel.) Meg dragged her cot away from the others' cots, in hopes of hearing the Angel better without the other girls' chatter.

During the day, Meg was half awake, with dark circles under her eyes. Meg couldn't concentrate, and she was no longer the best dancer at the practices. She was determined to hear the Angel, and if that meant she had to sacrifice her sleep, her friendship with the other girls and her prima ballerina dreams, then that was all well and good.

Christine, on the other hand, was thriving – doing better than ever. Although she still seemed the lofty, grieving girl she was when she first came, Christine was smiling more now. She was friendly to the other girls, and they to her. She seemed constantly in agood mood (for Christine), with a happy glint in her normally sad eyes.

It was when they were preparing backstage right before a huge opera. "Ill Muto" was about to give its all-time debut performance. It was expected to be a great hit with the critics and the public alike; a very witty, engaging comedy. Meg did not care. She only cared about the dancing; even her interest in the dancing wasonly mandatory for her ballerina training.

Meg had abandoned the company of the other ballerinas, and though she still loved to gossip the other girls hardly ever spoke to her anymore. Truth be told, they were a bit afraid of this drastic change in their normally sunny, somewhat shallow Meg.

So, without the friendship of the other ballerinas, Meg waspreparing herself for theopera with Christine – still the outcast of all the other girls. It was a hot summer night – a humid, dark day -and her ballet outfit was stuffy and too tight.

Suddenly she heard him. Meg heard her Angel, only to whip around – dark eyes rabid to hear the song once again – and see Christine, blithely humming as she stretched.

Meg looked at her. She just stood there. Meg was disappointed that her angel was not truly there, singing, but she had learned something else of value: Christine heard the Angel's singing, too.

"Where did you hear that?" Meg tried to stay calm, but she couldn't help herself. "Please, Christine, tell me!"

Christine looked up at her from her splits, and said, "What are you talking about?"

"That song, please tell me where you heard that!" Meg was whining now.

"Oh, you mean what I was just humming?"

"Yes, _that_," Meg was very impatient now.

"Nighttime, sharpens, softens each sensation…" Christine was smiling as she sang softy, her eyes taking on a dreamy glaze as she stared at the ceiling. Her singing was really very pretty, though no where near as good as the Angel's.

"Yes, that," Meg said, more politely and softly this time. Just a line or two of that song soothed her nerves – nerves that were on edge because of that very song, and Meg's longing to hear it once more.

Suddenly Christine looked her straight in the eyes. "At night," she said, a smile creeping up on her lips, her eyes once again dreamy,"at night, he comes and he sings…" Carlotta, the leading soprano, let out a piercing high note as she began to warm up.

Christine snapped out of her reverie. She looked around nervously. Meg could have sworn she sensed a shift in the shadows.

"It's not really… safe here…" Christine, frightened, hissed. It was so soft that Meg could barely hear her.

"Why?" Meg hissed back.

Christine shook it off. The smile was back on her face. "He comes, and he sings to me. He's a real-live angel… my father died, and he told me he'd grant me his Angel of Music; the one that inspired his music. It's just…my Angel of Music told me not to tell anyone, but I know I can trust you." Christine smiled widely.

Meg nearly felt sick to her stomach. Christine was so naïve; she trusted Meg so completely that she would risk the Angel – the Angel that made such wonderful music, that may never come back after he learned of Christine's disobedience – for Meg's friendship. And all this trust when Meg would have liked nothing better than to break Christine when Christine first came to the Opera Populaire. Meg couldn't bear to think of this girl, older than herself, beguiled so easily.

"Yes, well," said Meg in a weak, hollow voice, "I wanted to be friends the second after we met." Meg forced a smile, but Christine couldn't tell the difference.

"Oh, I'm so glad," Christine was beaming. Meg still felt guilty, but she had a new resolution: to be Christine's friend. It was obvious that she was desperate for friendship of any sort, and Christine was nice enough.

The fact that Christine might just bring her closer to the Angel - as it seemed that Christine had actually _spoken_ to him -was only a benefit of Christine's friendship. Not that Meg believed that Christine knew _too_ much about the Angel, but it seemed that Christine certainly knew more than Meg did.

"Girls!" Madame Giry snapped, obviously anxious about the opera, "get back to stretching!"

Christine and Meg went back to dancing. Madame Giry went back to nervously scolding the ballerinas.

Meg was pondering about the Angel.

The Angel, in the darkness, was pondering about Meg…and the secret he knew Meg now shared.

a/n: Ok, I'm fairly proud of this nice, long chapter. Again, please review! Oh, and let me just warn you... I _might _incorporate a little of the book into here, too. Thank you for reading! Much thanks to all my reviewers! I take all advice to heart!


	4. Five Years Later

Ch. 4

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the musical/novel "The Phantom of the Opera".

a/n: A new chapter! Yay! Anyway, enjoy, and if you want to help me become a better writer and all that nice stuff, please review! I want to thank my reviewers; it is so sweet of you guys to take the time and review!

_Five years later…_

It was autumn. Meg could feel the cold in the air as she walked out of the Opera Populaire. She was going out for some medicine. Her mother had come down with an unbearable sore throat - Madame Giry could not speak; could not scold; could not instruct; could not do her job. So even though Madame Giry hardly ever spent her money on medicine – unless it was for Meg – she told Meg to go out to the store and get her some tonic.

Meg felt self-conscious as she walked through the streets. The fine ladies – in their large, well-trimmed hats and stylish, expensive dresses – all glanced at her and shook their heads. Meg hummed the Angel's song, still fresh in her mind eventhough she hadn't heard it in years, andstraightened out her old, nearly frayed gray shawl. She could tell what they were thinking - _Probably some unfortunate little soul that works at the opera… good Lord, what a completely horrid place for a child to be brought up._

They didn't know her opera. Certainly, the average ballerina's quarters were nothing to applaud, but the splendor of the stage made up for that.

Finally, she made a turn on a shabbier street. There were'nt any rich-looking ladies here, a fact for which Meg was thankful.

Suddenly, she tripped. It wasn't her fault. It was some little boy, a street urchin that tripped her. He ran away, laughing at her misfortune. Meg got up. She groaned. Her dress had been ugly enough before, now it was muddy as well.

It was in this condition that she saw him. He was very handsome, style-wise. Yes, he was stylish indeed. He had qualities that would be considered handsome in any era, though. He was riding a coach – almost a chariot. He smiled at her as she passed through the street. She realized that, certainly, this man must be kind or he would not smile at her when her dress was in this condition.

She stood there, stunned for a moment. It was as though something important had just happened, though she had no idea what. It was the odd sensation of knowing you had met someone that would be very important to you in the future.

Finally, she got to the shop.

Monsieur Clairvaux's shop was the only place Meg could afford to buy her mother's medicine. For some reason, the Clairvauxs were willing to give her mothera discount on their wares, which was certainly handy considering how little her mother - and Meg herself, for that matter - were paid. The store wasn't all that pricey anyway; the Claivauxs weren't particularly well off. The only people that worked there were Monsieur and Madame Claivaux.

Madame Clairvaux was at the counter today, reading a gossip section of aParisian newspaper. When Meg came in the bells on the door ,which Meg was so enamored with as a child, jingled and Madame Clairvaux looked up at her.

Madame Clairvaux smiled at Meg. She was in her late fifties, and very plump. She had grayish dark brown hair that was swept up into a slightly untidy but respectable bun. She was wearing an apron over her simplebrown dress.

"Oh, hello... I know you, don't I? Now, who are you , dear?"

"I'm Meg Giry; Madame Giry - from the opera - I'm her daughter." Meg tried to explain to Madame Clairvaux who she was. It was no surprise that she'd forgotten Meg, because Meg came to the shop so little, but Meg knew that Madame Clairvaux would remember her mother.

Madame Clairvaux smiled more brightly. "Ah yes, how is she?"

Meg smiled inwardly to herself. It was so typical that Madame Clairvaux would want the gossip before she even thought of attending to Meg as a customer. "Not very well," Meg replied, "She became ill recently. An awful sore throat, you see."

Suddenly, Madame Clairvaux seemed to realize her duty as a shopkeeper. "Well, then, you must have come for medicine!"

Meg nodded. Madame Clairvaux looked at her sympathetically.

"It must be truly awful, then. And how are you, Meg? I havn't seen you for...let's see... since two years ago! Why don't you ever come visit, darling? I didn't even recognize you when you came!" Meg was secretly pleased that she hadn't been entirely forgotten."And goodness, your dress! It's filthy!"

"It's such a long way from the opera house," Meg said apologetically, "And my dress is dirty because I was tripped and fell into the mud. Don't worry about it."

"Ah, yes, how are you doing? Become the prima ballerina yet?" she said jokingly.

"No, I'm working on it," Meg said, smiling, "and I'm doing fine. Christine is doing fine, too. She's getting better at coping with her father's death."

Madame Clairvaux made a 'tch' sound. "That girl is so fragile. Sweet, as well, but so delicate. In my day..."

Meg let Madame Clairvaux ramble on for a bit. She stared out the window at the cloudy, now drizzling sky.She recalled the man on the chariot-carriage. More of a boy, really. He could only have been twenty, at most.

"Madame Clairvaux, do you know of the man who came by on his chariot-type carriage a little while ago? He was blonde, with blue eyes, and he was wearing very nice clothing."

Madame Clairvaux gave Meg a sly look.

"Ah, you mean the Vicomte de Chagny? Yes, he's very popular with the ladies, Meg, but I'm afraid that means you have a load of competition..."

"No!" squeaked Meg, "I don't like him that way! I was just curious!"

Madame Clairvaux gave Meg another look. "Whatever you say, dear. He's very stylish, the Vicomte. The younger brother of the Count de Chagny. Looking for a wife, I've read. He's courting a very beautiful young girl, by the name of Gabrielle - you may have heard of her, she's the Duke's younger daughter, quite spoiled I've heard - but I do beleive they've been having a bit of trouble. Screaming matches and so on. At least that's what the column says. Maybe you do have a chance, Meg," Madame Clairvaux winked and this time Meg laughed. Meg had forgotten quite how nice - and gossip addicted - Madame Clairvaux was.

Madame Clairvaux, now rambling about Gabrielle's more glamorous older sister, went into the back to fetch a cough tonic for Meg. Meg reflected on what she had just learned. She was never interested in reading the papers about the noble people's affairs - the papers were too expensive, and the opera itself was a rich enough source of gossip - but she was intrigued by this man. It was the gossip addict in _her _coming out.

Madame Clairvaux came out from the back room and gave Meg a slightly dusty bottle of tonic especially for sore throats.She told Meg that Madame Giry mustn't take more than two tablespoons a day, and to give Madame Giry her best wishes. Meg left the store. It had stopped drizzling, although it was still very cloudy. Outside, Christine was waiting for her.

"Christine, what are you doing here?" Meg asked, surprised.

Christine smiled sheepishly and said, "Well, Carlotta had another screaming fit, and you know, how it is... this was sort of a big one, the kind where she threatens to leave. So first the managers have to tell her how superb she is and convince her to join us again. Then they have to go over Carlotta's parts, or Carlotta will leave in a huff for lack of limelight. Ballet is the last thing attended to." Christine shrugged her shoulders. Meg sighed.

"She's such a toad!" blurted Christine suddenly. Meg began to laugh violently.

"It's completely true!" Meg said.

"So, did you get your mother's medicine?" Christine asked.

Meg held up the dusty bottle.

"Yes, I did. I met a man on my way here." replied Meg, throwing in the unrelated topic, knowing that Christine would enjoy the gossip almost as much as Meg herself.

"Really?"

"Yes... well, he didn't really talk to me, but he sort of smiled at me. Madame Clairvaux - you've met her, you know how she reads those gossip columns all the time - she said he was rich and titled."

Christine raised an eyebrow.

"Then why would he be around here? I mean, I'm sorry if I'm offending you, Meg, but this isn't an area the rich often visit."

Meg thought for a moment,recallling the lack of richladies when she turned onto the street."Maybe he was passing through because it was a quicker way to get to his destination."

Christine shrugged her shoulders. "Perhaps. I don't doubt you met someon rich and titled; you're not a liar and Madame Clairvaux certainly knows her nobles. But I certainly wonder what he was doing. I wonder if he had some other motive...?"

"Perhaps... I can't imagine what it was though."

"Come on," said Christine, "let's get back to the opera house, or else we'll be missed. Your mother will get so angry if she realizes we left!"

"_You_ left!" Meg said, giggling, "You sneaked out, not me! She _told _me to go!"

Christine made a face and then she giggled, too. "Fine! At any rate, we better get back!"

As they made their way to the opera, chatting pleasantly, Meg had the Vicomte de Chagny on her mind. Who was he in person, why was he there in that area? Who was this Gabrielle? Why didMeg have that odd feeling when she was near him?

a/n: And I want you to know... Raoul is not intended to be a love interst for Meg! That might have been interesting, but it's just not the way I'm planning this story. When she talks about an 'odd feeling' around him in this chapter, she is simply having some sort of premonition about Raoul... which, of course,is foreshadowing the whole Phantom of the Opera fiasco. Next chapter, we will hear more about the Angle's song. I know I only put in one line about the song, and you're thinking, "What the heck? Meg was totally obsessed with it in the last chapter!" The last chapter was set five years ago (making Meg fourteen and Christine sixteen now). Meg hasn't heard the song since. Although it is constantly floating through her mind, eternally stuck in her head,she views it as something that she overreacted to years ago. She forgot how powerful the Phantom's song really is. You'll find out all about it next chapter!


	5. Gabrielle

Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the musical/novel/movie "The Phantom of the Opera".

a/n: Ok, I'm sorry, but last time I checked I **131 HITS AND 3 REVIEWS! **Come on, pretty please **REVIEW! **I hope you like my chapter.:) Sorry it took so long to get updated, this is pretty long for me. Oh, and spell check keeps correcting me … so Vicomte is now Viscount.

A few weeks later, and Meg was onstage again.

Waiting for her cue to begin dancing, Meg spotted Gabrielle, the duke's daughter. After inquiring about her from La Sorrelli, she had been told that Raoul occupied box seven quite often, and there he and Gabrielle were, up in box seven with some other people.

Gabrielle was, indeed, very lovely. She had long hair styled in perfect, shiny ringlets and pale skin, which were both very fashionable features for a lady to have. Meg stared at the Viscount and Gabrielle intently. Unfortunately, from the distance, Meg couldn't figure out anything else about Gabrielle.

The ballet music began and Meg, nearly caught off guard, danced out onto the front of the stage. As she danced – for she knew the routine well, it was quite easy – she concentrated on Gabrielle and the Viscount de Chagny. Gabrielle kept leaning over to the Viscount and whispering things to him, but he ignored her, even gave her what seemed to Meg to be nasty looks when she bothered him, and watched the opera closely.

After the opera, the managers were in a very good mood, throwing a sort of celebration for all involved. Rumor had it that the managers were retiring, and this was to be their last opera. Meg _knew_ so, for she had it on reliable sources that it was true.

While the ballerinas and chorus girls stayed down in the worker's areas, patrons celebrated on the main floor.Meg, desperate to get a closer look at the Viscount and Gabrielle, sneaked up and joined them.

She hid in the dark corner, behind a huge Cupid sculpture, but if she was caught, it could very well be the end of her days as a ballerina.

Finally, she spotted the Viscount and Gabrielle.

_Quite charming, _Meg thought, as she watched the Viscount. His arm was around Gabrielle's waist, and he telling a joke to some other nobility. Meg deduced that the Viscount and Gabrielle must be engaged for him to do such a thing as put his arm around her in public. But was it just Meg's imagination, or did his arm seem a little stiff?

"Raoul, old boy, you never cease to amaze us!" the jolly, gray haired man chuckled at Raoul's joke. Raoul – the Viscount, Meg realized - looked down modestly, with a little smile on his face. Gabrielle laughed – a bit hollowly and rehearsed – and showed a beautiful set of sparkling, pearl white teeth.

Meg concentrated on Gabrielle for a moment. Gabrielle was indeed lovely– preened to perfection. Aside from her gorgeous teeth, perfect hair and pale skin, Gabrielle possessed clear blue eyes, and full, red lips. She had a tasteful dress and wore some clearly expensive jewels.

Raoul suddenly made eye contact with Meg and smiled again. Meg blushed, looked down, and moved so that the Cupid statue covered her more from view. She hoped that Raoul would not realize that she wasn't supposed to be there, although it was fairly obvious by the tatters that she wore.

Gabrielle, unfortunately, saw Raoul smile at Meg, and frowned. She had an agitated expression on her face that did not suit her at all.

Gabrielle tapped Raoul on the shoulder and whispered something to him, but he brushed her off. Then, quite annoyed, Gabrielle pulled Raoul away from the group, saying they'd be "just a moment," and dragged him into the hallway. The rest of the group chuckled, obviously oblivious to whatever was wrong. They probably suspected the young lovebirds were going to go and have a "good time alone" as they put it.

Meg, however, being an expert people observer, knew differently. Gabrielle looked peeved, and Raoul looked slightly confused.

Meg figured that if she had remained fairly well hidden so long, she might continue sneaking for a bit longer. So she followed the couple out into the shadowy hallway.

Eventually, when they were far enough away from the main hall, Gabrielle pulled Raoul into a room that Meg knew to be the small, dingy space where the cleaners kept things. Meg went quietly to the door, and knowing that no one would come across her in the hallway, peeked in through the keyhole.

Gabrielle snapped on the light, illuminating a small, dusty room of cleaning supplies. Her perfectly plucked eyebrows knotted together as she glared at Raoul.

"We're engaged, you can't just go around smiling flirtatiously at every pretty ballet girl in sight!" Gabrielle hissed.

_Ha,_ Meg though triumphantly, _I knew it! They're engaged, and she's angry at him. Oh, and they think I'm pretty…_ Meg was actually quite flattered by the last comment. Gabrielle was being a bit fussy; it was obvious that something else was bothering her.

"I didn't flirt with her, Gabby."

"Don't call me Gabby! I'm Gabrielle, Raoul! We're not two; we're engaged!"

"Gabby, you know… I - I love you. "

_He hesitated,_ thought Meg, _he doesn't really love her. He shouldn't lie to her like that._ But at the same time, Meg knew that in the world of the wealthy, marriage was more often planned for money and title than for love.

Gabrielle calmed down after she heard the words, even though he used her nickname. In fact, Gabrielle enjoyed the name when she wasn't upset; she viewed it as a sort of pet name. "I love you, too, darling," she said. "Kiss?" She looked pleadingly up at Raoul, like a puppy.

He sighed. "Gabby, you know we shouldn't… it's really not proper. We're not married."

Gabrielle pouted some more, trying to look as cute and puppy-like as was possible. "Raoul, it's not as though we haven't done it before, I don't know why you've been so reluctant! Besides, it's what everyone out there thinks we're doing!"

"No… I don't think we should…"

"Please, darling? Or do you want me to return this?" Gabrielle raised her hand. On her hand a large, gorgeous, blue gem glinted in the dim light. An engagement ring.

Raoul hesitated only a split second more before pulling her into a kiss. After a moment, he let her go. Gabrielle giggled.

"Oh, come on, Raoul, you're ruining all my fun! Forget them!" Gabrielle pulled Raoul closer to her and said in a low purr "just stay here… with me…"

Raoul smiled a bit tightly. "We have to go Gabby – dear," he tacked on the 'dear' as an afterthought. "You know that the Earl may be absent minded, but his wife… that woman has a taste for making the silliest rumors out of the smallest things."

Gabrielle giggled once more – apparently elated that Raoul called her 'dear' – and they made their way to the door. Quick as a flash, Meg rushed away from the door and hid in the darkest of the shadows at the end of the hallway, where no lamps were lit.

A moment later, Gabrielle and Raoul came out of the storage room, holding hands. As soon as they disappeared down the hallway, Meg came out of the shadows, and just stood there for a second, thinking. She knew what was going on.

Gabrielle, obviously, was head over heels in love with Raoul. Raoul, being of a lower rank in society, was happy to court - and eventually wed - the duke's daughter, even if he didn't feel the same way. After all, she was rich and could offer him so many connections…

Gabrielle seemed to know – way deep down – that Raoul didn't love her, but did nothing about it. He clearly wanted to be married to her, though for all the wrong reasons. That was why she threatened to return the engagement ring.

When she got back the festivities in the worker's area, Meg couldn't find Christine anywhere. Searching, she finally found Christine in a little room, out of the way of the main area.

"Christine?" Meg said cautiously. She heard a few beautiful notes… could it be the voice? No, she was just imagining things... wasn't she?

"Meg?" said Christine.

Meg spotted Christine sitting on the ground in what appeared to be a chapel. Dirty and dusty, but a chapel all the same. There was an angel in the stained glass window, and it was dark save for some candles in the middle of the room, where Christine was sitting.

"Oh, hello Christine," Meg said, struggling to put the Angel out of her mind. "So… what are you doing around here?"

Christine beckoned for Meg to come closer, when Meg sat closer to her, Christine spoke.

"That's my father's picture," said Christine proudly. A small black and white picture of a man in his twenties – obviously a young Monsieur Daae - was on the little table along with the candles. The frame read "GUSTAVE DAAE". It looked strangely familiar to Meg.

"I light him a candle after every show," said Christine more softly, "in hopes that my Angel of Music will watch over me."

"So you believe…?" said Meg, even more quietly. Christine shook her head slowly.

"I…. I don't feel like talking about it right now." Christine replied. Watching the candles for just a moment more, she blew them out, leaving smoke and darkness. Meg thought she heard the voice sing one last, fading song – Christine seemed to hear it, too – but Meg didn't say anything. It was a delicate moment.

When the smoke had disappeared, Christine said, "Come, Meg. It's time that we went to bed. Where were you?"

"Oh, just watching people," Meg replied, as they walked out into the now mostly quiet hallway, where the festivities were dieing down, "observing, as they say."


	6. Meet the Ballet Rats

Chapter Six

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the novel/musical/movie "The Phantom of the Opera".

a/n: Ok, yes, I know this took a while. But please review anyway:) Thanks to all of my reviewers. I thought that this chapter was a little bit weak, but you get to meet some of the other ballerinas, which is sort of nice. Also, I've realized I made some mistakes in past chapters… like the age at which Christine came to the opera house. But it worked well for my story, so let's call it poetic license. ;) Remember... If you review, I'll be more likely to go check out one of your stories and review. :)

It was the day of the gala performance. Meg woke up to one of those late autumn days where the weather is cool, clear, and crisp.

Christine was still in her bed, dreaming. Meg could hear her talking in her sleep: "Angel," Christine murmured. Meg looked at her sleepily, remembering the events of last night…

Especially the voice.

Ambre, a tallish, thin girl with thick, brown hair and a thin face, laughed quietly at Christine. So did the girls around her, the other promising talents among the teenaged ballerinas – well, the ones who were awake.

"Angel!" Ambre cried, melodramatically, throwing her arms up in the air. Meg let out a little laugh – or rather, snort.

Really, Ambre could be a pig at times, but she could be just as funny. Meg probably shouldn't have laughed at her friend... or at any jokes involving the Angel, but then again, why not? Ambre certainly didn't know who the Angel was.

Ambre'sstrident voicewoke Christine up. Christine looked around with sleepy eyes, as though she had the vague feeling someone had been making fun of her. She shook her head and began to make her bed.

Once Christine wasn't paying attention to her anymore, Ambre giggled again and said, "I bet you I know who her angel is!"

Meg held her breath: she _couldn't _know who the Angel was, could she? Meg got up from her bed and joined Ambre and the other ballerinas. She was certainly curious enough.

"Oh, hello, Meg," said Ambre, pleasantly surprised to see her. "Anyway," Ambre continued, "It's the Viscount de Chagny! He was looking at her – completely entranced – all night from his box. In fact, he's been doing it for a while. You girls do know Corin… you know?" She looked around the group, "_That _Corin?"

One girl, Isabelle, squealed, "That handsome man who shows the rich people to their seats!"

"Yes," said Ambre happily, "that's the one. Now, I'm not the sort of girl to talk about her romantic life-" _Oh, never,_ Meg thought sarcastically as Ambre took a dramatic pause, "-but Corin is quite _interested_ in me!" Some of the girls giggled. Meg was interested, but not nearly as amused as the rest.

"Anyway…Corin, the dear, said that he'd peeked in on the Viscount - it's part of his job to make sure the rich are comfortable during the opera- and noticed that he was actually ignoring his fiancé… to scan the ballerinas for his beloved Christine!" More excited little gasps.

Colette chimed in, "Do you think he's ever kissed her?"

Ami raised an eyebrow comically, "I don't know. Do you think he's been cheating on his wife-to-be with a ballet girl?"

They all entertained this idea, for plainly, the idea was very entertaining. It was like an opera, right there in the opera house, and this time not one that involved La Sorelli, the prima ballerina, but one of their very own!

_It all makes sense now!_ Meg thought. Raoul had been looking for Christine that day - Meg had been positive he was looking for someone! And he was so captivated by her that he went to the opera and focused on finding Christine in the crowd of girls. Meg wondered whether Christine knew that Raoul was so enchanted with her.

"Do you think he's secretly courting her?" asked Colette.

"I bet he is," said Ambre, "In fact, I'm certain!"

Isabelle, Colette, and the rest of the girls (Meg included) looked at Ambre in wide-eyed awe.

"I heard that the Viscount mysteriously left a conversation last night – at the party – and went off who-knows-where for a half hour or so." Isabelle gasped audibly loudest this time.

"Oh my goodness-" Isabelle breathed.

"Yes, I'm certain he was off with Christine!" Ambre finished. The corners of Meg's mouth curled up in a smile – she knew the whole story. He hadn't been off with Christine at all, but with his fiance.

"What is it Meg?" asked Isabelle, eyeing Meg as though she was keeping something from them. She was.

"Nothing, I just find it amusing." Meg did not volunteer any information.

Ambre, obviously the cleverest of the girls, glanced over at Christine, who was washing her face with the basin in the corner. Christine was almost done with her average toilette, and Ambre did not want her to find out about their gossip.

"Did I tell you about Georges?" Ambre inserted quickly.

"No!" said Isabelle, suddenly alert, "What about him?"

Christine walked by them, casting a look their way to make sure they weren't talking about her. Christine had been the subject of much gossip since she'd arrived at the opera house; she could never be too careful.

Meg gave her a little smile to let her know that things were all right - though they were far from right. The girls were being completely silly - assuming all these things about Christine.

Still. They had been right before. Leading Meg to wonder who the Angel was. Could it possibly be Raoul de Chagny? If not, _who was...?_


	7. Eric

Chapter Seven

"Meg, your timing is off," Madame Giry barked at her daughter, "And Eve!" Madame Giry's look became cold as steel as she said, "You are not to be giggling with the other girls! You are to be practicing your plies while the older girls do their dances!"

Eve looked terrified, and she began to practice her plies more fiercely than Meg had ever seen plies practiced.

Meg almost felt sorry for the little girl, only about five. But _every_ ballerina knew that Madame Giry was not to be reckoned with before an opera night.

"_Meg!_" Madame Giry snapped, "You're still off! What did I tell you, you need to be on the beat like the others or you will make a complete fool of yourself on stage today!"

_Today?_ Meg thought. Operas were in the evening – Mother should have said, "tonight". That was odd, considering how precise she was…

"**_AMBRE!_**" Madame Giry shouted. There was total silence. "What did I tell little Eve? What did I tell her?"

All heads were turned looking at Ambre, who was blushing for once. You could hear a pin drop.

"Ummm.."

Madame Giry cut her off. "No talking, Ambre," she said. Her words were quiet, but burning with anger. "_Now_, back to your dances!"

The practice room submerged itself back into the everyday activity. But Meg knew that her mother was behaving strangely. Madame Giry was a perfectionist, but she usually didn't blow up like that over things like girls talking during practice.

Meg wondered what was going on… and then it hit her.

The managers were retiring. That meant that there would be new managers. So perhaps the managers were coming in to see the opera dress rehearsal today.

Suddenly, Meg, too, became very nervous about them. After all, she wanted to make a good impression.

The ballerinas were given a short break around noon. Christine disappeared to who-knew-where. Meg felt her stomach lurch when she couldn't find her, and wondered if perhaps Raoul and Christine really were seeing each other.

Meg felt like she needed to be alone. She needed to separate the lies from the truth – with all of the strange things happening in her life, there was nothing she wanted more than fact.

And, of course, this is when things simply got more complicated.

Meg found a dark, small room. She'd first found it a couple of years ago, after Colette had spread a nasty rumor about her and Meg had needed a good place to be alone and cry. She had wandered the halls and eventually found a place – the room – in which she could sit and think things out. She had visited several times since then.

Closing the door behind her, Meg entered the room.

It was quiet, and she fought the darkness with a little candle and some matches that she had filched from Joseph Buquet – she felt it was justified, because he often visited the ballerinas' quarters to shamelessly flirt and with some of the older girls, as well as being a peeping Tom.

Meg had deduced that it was a storage room – there were some old, moth eaten costumes in it, along with some dusty props. She especially liked a huge mirror with a gilded frame that stood against the wall.

Just as she struck the match and lighted her candle, Meg heard something behind her. She turned around. Suddenly, someone was behind her, blowing out her candle. She was left in the dark.

Unfortunately, she was not alone.

"Listen well," said a voice. It was the rich voice of an accomplished tenor. She could not see his face in the sudden darkness, and the voice was not familiar.

"Meg Giry-" Meg gasped, frightened that this man knew her name "- yes, I know who you are. Listen – you must do as I say. New _fools_ are going to be managing _my_ opera," he spat, "and I need you to deliver a certain little note for me." So it was true. There were new managers.

Meg craned her neck around, trying to get a look at him. It was difficult in the darkness, but she could make out that he was wearing a mask over most of his face. _How odd,_ she thought.

His face twisted into a cruel smile. "Yes, they must agree to my terms before I allow them some authority over my opera. At any rate, you must deliver this note."

He held out a note to her. Meg noticed with a shiver that the note was sealed with wax in the shape of a skull.

"N-n-no thank you, sir," Meg whispered.

"Excuse me?"

"I said no thank you. I don't want to deliver your letter."

The man muttered something like "said she was obedient…" and then addressed Meg.

"Why not?" His tone was threatening.

Meg was barely audible. "Well, sir, I don't even know who you are. You just come up to me in a dark room out of thin air and ask me to deliver a letter with a skull on it. And who said that I'd be obedient? Why choose me to deliver your letter?" She said this very quickly, very quietly.

He cursed, but then answered her with a sly, disturbing smile.

"Those are for me to know and for you to find out, Meg. But since I know your name, you may know mine – although it is not what I am commonly called. I am Erik."

He turned away from her. In his dark clothing, she couldn't tell where he was.

"You and I will meet again, Meg. I hope next time you will comply with my wishes, because I may not be in such a patient mood." He turned and smiled disturbingly at her once again – nearly making her faint with fear – and turned into darkness.

Meg heard the same noise that she had heard a moment ago – it almost sounded like shifting – and with that, Meg was alone again.

Suddenly, she realized that she was going to be late for dress rehearsal. Madame Giry would certainly be very, very angry, considering the mood she was in today. She ran as fast as she could back to the stage – to get away from _him_, mostly.  
But when she got back, panting from her run and making up an excuse that was very obviously a lie, Madame Giry only nodded and – were Meg's eyes deceiving her? – gave Meg a little smile.

While they had been on break, the singers had come and were dressed. The ballerinas went backstage to their dressing rooms to prepare for the dress rehearsal. Meg and Christine were dressing, when Meg suddenly asked her:

"Christine, where did you go off to at our break?"

Christine's face flushed and her cheeks became pink with blush. "Oh, I was around, Meg. I'm sorry I didn't spend it with you," she apologized.

Meg was still curious, but it was obvious to her that Christine was evading her question. So as she finished dressing in her costume, she was forced to think of other things. Like the strange masked man.

When they were done dressing, Meg and Christine ran down the spiral staircase from their dressing rooms to the backstage area. The opera was buzzing now, with addition of the singers. They were all about, trying to look sophisticated. They were warming up their voices – Carlotta was the loudest – and striking poses, practicing for their time on stage. It was actually more annoying than usual, if that was possible. Meg and Christine joined the other ballerinas in their exercises just in time.

Colette and Isabelle were whispering to one another. Meg moved herself a little bit so that she could hear them.

"Yes, the new managers are coming today," whispered Isabelle, trying to keep Madame Giry from hearing them.

"Really? We're getting new managers?" asked Colette, wide-eyed with this information.

Isabelle rolled her eyes, quickly pushing a piece of red-blonde hair out of her eyes. "Really, Colette, how can you not know these things? It's been all over the opera as of this morning. _I've_ known that our managers were retiring since a couple of days ago."

Meg smirked._ Ha, _she said to herself,_ I knew a couple of **weeks** ago!_

"Wow, Isabelle, how do you know these things?"

"Mostly from Ambre, but this is something I discovered on my own," Isabelle boasted. "Anyway, that's why all of the singers are being so annoying today. They're showing off for the new managers."

"Girls! We have new mangers visiting, and I want you to dance and behave well at our dress rehearsal today! They will be observing you!" Her eyes coolly scanned the girls, lingering on Ambre for a moment. "Go!" she said, and the ballerinas – especially the small ones who hadn't heard of this –whispered to each other about this as they left.

They came near the stage as the new mangers were being introduced. They were two old-ish men – Meg had missed their names – about fifty, or sixty even. She heard something about a fortune amassed in the scrap metal business.

"They must be rich!" Isabelle exclaimed softly to Ambre, who was giving the managers a flirtatious look. Meg felt slightly nauseated by this, but it was no secret that while Ambre was a flirt, she was ambitious. She wanted a rich husband someday, even if he was old and not so very attractive.

"We are proud to introduce our new patron – the Viscount de Chagny!" said the managers.

Christine looked at him in disbelief. "Raoul!" she whispered.

Meg's stomach gave a lurch – had Christine really been seeing him the whole time? And more importantly, not telling Meg – her best friend – about him?

"When we were young," Christine said quietly, transfixed with him, "I lived near the sea. This was before – before my father… died." It was obviously difficult for Christine to talk about it, but the words became smoother. "I suppose that we could have been called sweethearts in our youth. He called me 'little Lotte'." A small smile came to Christine's face.


	8. The Phantom of the Opera

Chapter Eight

a/n: I don't really like most of this chapter, but I had to get through the rest of the Hannibal scene. The next chapter should be much better, trust me. :) Please review. Reviews really make my day. :D

"Oh, Christine, he's so handsome!" Meg said excitedly, happy that her friend was not lying to her.

Meg did not reveal that she knew Raoul – he had a fiancé, after all, and she did not want to get Christine's hopes up. Although it was obvious that Raoul hoped to see Christine – whether it was for romantic or purely friendly purposes, Meg could not tell.

Raoul stood up and rattled off some speech about loving the arts, and the honor it was to be the patron. But Meg – and perhaps Meg alone – noticed his eyes scanning the crowd.

"Our leading soprano for five years – Carlotta Giudecelli!"

Carlotta strutted up, and was introduced to the new patron. Piangi Barlow, the leading tenor, cleared his throat and was also introduced.

Raoul said some more things about it being an honor, and that he wouldn't want to interrupt them. He said he would be back that night for the gala performance of Hannibal.

"Ciao!" said Carlotta sweetly. "He love-ah me! He love-ah me. Love-ah me, love-ah me, love-ah me!" she gloated. Meg heard Isabelle giggling girlishly a bit behind her.

Raoul passed right by Meg as they left.

Christine stared at her shoes, downcast. "He… he wouldn't remember me."

"He didn't see you," Meg insisted. It was obvious that he hadn't seen Christine. Raoul, disappointed, had been looking down as he passed them.

"Excuse me," said Madame Giry coolly as she waved the managers away to the side. The ballerinas were running out onto the stage and beginning their dance.

Meg did the best that she could - luckily, nerves always made her better at her dancing, and she heard herself being complimented by the managers. The corners of her mouth turned up as she heard a snippet of the conversation - "blonde angel".

It was after she heard the words "ravishing beauty" and "promising talent" as they pointed to Christine that she felt a twinge of envy. They were also talking a bit about Christine's heritage - the fact that her father was Gustave Daae seemed to impress them, and make Madame Giry proud.

Somone stepped on Carlotta's dress, causing Carlotta to shout. Promptly after the finale, Carlotta began whining.

"All-ah they want is-ah the dancing!" she moaned loudly, as she stormed off the stage toward the door.

She heard some frightened whispers from the managers. Monsieur Le Fevre, the old manager, cleared his throat. "If you need me, I will be in Australia," he said, walking out of the opera quickly.

Meg observed as the managers begged Carlotta to stay. Carlotta dramatically refused at first, but finally agreed to sing for them.

Carlotta sprayed some freshener in her mouth and stood at the front of the stage. She began to sing.

"Think of me, think of me fondly..."

It was quite boring. Meg began to daydream, ignoring Carlotta's strident voice.

Suddenly, Meg heard a crash and Carlotta's scream. A backdrop had fallen to the ground, nearly missing Carlotta's head.

"He's here - the Phantom of the Opera!" Meg said breathily.

Madame Giry glared at Meg - yes, Meg had heard it a million times before: that no one was to speak of the phantom. But it was her first reaction to recall the many stories that Josheph Buquet had frightened the ballerinas with, the tales that told of a terribly ugly, horrid monster that haunted the opera.

"Please, monseiurs, there's no one there... or perhaps it was a ghost..." he shouted down to them, grinning deviously as he mentioned the ghost.

Carlotta broke into a fit of tears, even though she was unharmed. This time no one could comfort her or convince her to stay.

"For-ah the past three years, these things do 'appen! _Bah!_ Well, until-ah you stop-ah these things from 'appening, this-ah thing does-ah not 'appen!"

The managers went very white - it was their first day at the opera, and already they had lost their star.

Madame Giry picked up an envelope that had fallen on the ground. Meg's heart nearly stopped beating and a cold sweat came over her when she saw it.

It was the same letter. She could tell by that awful wax seal - the red skull.

"It is from the opera ghost," said Madame Giry. Meg was surprised that Mother was reading aloud this letter from the phantom that they no one ever spoke of.

"He wants you to continue to leave Box Five empty-" Madame Giry indicated the box with her cane "- and reminds you that you owe him his salary."

"An opera ghost?" declared one manager incredulously.

"His salary!"the other manager said, disgusted.

"Monsieur Le Fevre used to give him fifty-thousand francs a year," Madame Giry bluffed. Or at least Meg _thought_ she was bluffing. Meg had never heard that the opera ghost was paid - especially that much money.

"Fifty thousand francs..." said the manager, astounded.

There were more nervous whispers from the managers. They'd lost their star, and now there was this disturbing developement.

Meg could only think, _It's Erik. The opera ghost is real, and his name is Erik._

"Chrisine Daae could take the role, sirs," Madame Giry said - a bit eagerly, Meg noticed.

"What, a ballerina? Take the role of our _star?_" one manager said. Truly, Meg was as shocked as him. Christine? An opera star? The thought almost made her laugh.

"Well, she is pretty," the other reasoned, "Let's give her a try."

The other shrugged, and urged a timid Chrsitine up to the front of the stage.

"Come on now," he told her.

Christine, wide-eyed and nervous, began to sing.

"Think of me, think of me fondly..."

It was beautiful.

After he recovered froma sort of trance, one of the mangers said:

"Very good, very good. Ladies and gentlemen," he said turning to the other performers triumphantly, "we have found our replacement!"

Christine smiled widely. Madame Giry smiled, satisfied, at Christine.

Meg would have smiled at her friend, but she was still too shocked. _It's Erik. The opera ghost is real, and his name is Erik._


	9. Think of Me: Performance

Chapter Nine

author's note: This chapter is short, but I figured I had to do _something. _I'm sorry I haven't updated more. :( Please review, because reviews are really the best motivation. :P

"Christine," breathed Meg, as she and her friend changed out of their ballet costumes, "that was lovely, I mean it!"

Christine's face flushed and she gave a shy little smile.

_She doesn't feel comfortable with all this attention, _Meg noted, _Going from ballerina to starlet…_

The dressing room was bustling with activity, and every so often someone came by to congratulate Christine. Even Ambre congratulated her, although whether she was sincere or not was uncertain.

The door to the dressing room opened, and Madame Giry poked her head in.

"Miss Daae?" she called with a smile in her voice, almost ceremoniously.

Christine, who was finished dressing, straightened up. Her eyes widened slightly, as though she could not believe what she was hearing. Madame Giry usually just called the ballet rats by their given names; things like 'Miss' were reserved for the wealthy and the noble.

"Miss Daae?" Madame Giry called again, a bit louder and more irritated this time.

"Yes – yes, I'm coming, Madame!" Christine called back, and she scurried off.

Madame Giry and Christine talked for a moment – Madame Giry looked as though she were delivering some good news, for she smiled slightly as she spoke, and Christine's eyes widened in childlike wonder.

_Childlike, _Meg thought a bit spitefully, _that pretty much sums her up. She's so lofty and innocent… and she's so gullible. I don't know how she gets by like that…_

Then Meg felt ashamed. What was so wrong with being like that? Meg herself was actually a bit jaded, something her mother constantly reminded her was _not _attractive.

Soon Madame Giry was gone, with Christine following her like a little lap dog.

Meg sighed, and wondered where Christine was going. She put away both of their ballet costumes and went to take her lunch break.

Instead of eating the tray of muck provided by the ballet, Meg took her earnings (meager as they might be) and went to pick up something in town. Just a little bread, a piece of fruit… as long as it was fresh and recognizable as food.

It wasn't long before she came upon a street vendor selling peaches. Meg bought one and reluctantly handed over the coin to the man.

Meg turned over the fruit in her hand, smiling at the concept of fresh fruit, when thoughts of the opera ghost floated back to her. She frowned and bit into the peach.

_Eric, he said his name was. Eric. Why does he wear a mask? Why does he choose to live at the opera? Is he really a ghost? I could have sworn he was real flesh and blood… Why did he want me to deliver that letter? Why?_

The answers to these questions evaded her, so Meg took another bite of the peach instead of puzzling herself even more.

They were rehearsing for the opera; it was the last dress rehearsal.

Christine appeared in her costume, taking her place for the first act.

"Where were you?" Meg hissed, "Collette's taken your place, so now I have to dance with _her,_ and you know how she-"

"I'm sorry, Meg, I've been practicing. After all, if I'm going to take over the part tonight, I have to practice." Christine told her friend regretfully.

"Right," Meg agreed weakly, "I forgot. So is that where Mother took you after our rehearsal earlier?"

Christine bit her lip and looked toward the ground.

"Go on!" Meg urged.

"Well," Christine said hesitantly, looking up again, "she did take me to go over my singing. But first she took me to see my dressing room."  
"Dressing room? You're very own dressing room?" Meg said, completely stunned, "but you're just a fill-in for Carlotta! Why are you getting your very own private, pretty, _clean _dressing room!" (The ballet rats' dressing room was public, ugly, and filled with rats of the non-dancing variety.)

She quickly clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing that what she'd just said sounded quite rude.

"You're right, of course, but I get to have Carlotta's dressing room for the time being." A sudden, frightening idea came to Christine. "Oh no! What will I do when Carlotta finds out? She's sure to be livid!"

Meg did not doubt that Carlotta would find out, and she did not doubt that Carlotta would be livid.

"I'll be ruined!" Christine continued frantically.

"Places, everyone!" Madame Giry barked.

Meg smiled as a goodbye to the still slightly-frazzled Christine and ran to take her place in the dance.

The lights were bright tonight, and Meg could not spot the Viscount de Chagny in his box that night. But she would bet anything that he was there.

Finally, it was Christine's grand number. The crowd seemed to be loving her so far, though.

Meg felt herself shoved gently to the side. She looked over. Visible from the stage's lights was one of Carlotta's entourage, peeking nervously at the stage.

_Poor woman, _Meg though sympathetically, _I wouldn't fancy having to go back and report Christine's success to Carlotta._

Christine sucked in a deep breathe. For a second – just a mere second – Meg could see a glint of anxiety in her eyes.

But then she was all smiles, singing in her eerily beautiful voice:

"Think of me…"

Meg could feel her mother fingers – her hands, which looked so old and knobby were actually soft and fairly smooth – nonchalantly combing through Meg's long, blonde hair.

For a moment, Meg felt completely at peace. It wasn't often that her mother displayed such affection, and for some reason (probably she was quite grounded in her theory) Meg felt like she always came second to her mother's work. So this was refreshing and sweet; like the over-priced lemonade the vendors liked to sell.

Suddenly, Meg felt her mother freeze and pull away. What could be that matter? It seemed as though her mother had just remembered she needed to something important…

Meg turned around only to see her mother hurrying off to who-knew-where.

She resolved, once and for all, that she would get to the bottom of the enigma that was her mother.

Christine's song ended with applause from the enraptured audience. Flowers were thrown onto the stage. Christine smiled, her eyes lit up, and looked around the crowd, as though there was so much to take in that she wished she had extra eyes.

Even though most of her focus was on Christine, Meg wryly noticed Carlotta's assistant take a quick swig from some sort of flask and nervously hurry off.

Christine glanced hopefully over at Meg and the other ballerinas. Meg clapped and smiled widely. Christine's face lit up at the ballerinas' approval, and she turned back to the audience.

Later, backstage, there was a huge party for the cast. The gala for the patrons had been held pre-opera, in the receiving hall.

Now, backstage, there partying of a much wilder, freer form. It was the cast, a couple patrons, and the two new managers (who, as Meg was disgusted but not at all surprised to learn, had Collette and Ambre hanging all over them).

Meg's brow furrowed as she made her way through this mob of bodies. Normally, she would linger a bit and try to enjoy it, although frankly this sort of affair wasn't her idea of entertainment.

She was on a mission: to find Christine. Christine had been whisked away after the performance, and Meg hadn't had a chance to congratulate her on her excellent performance.

Suddenly, Meg knew exactly where she would find Christine. She slipped into an inconspicuous, dingy little door.


	10. Angel in the Chapel

a/n: It's a short chapter, but I decided to update. Much thanks for the reviews! Remember to leave a review.

Suddenly, Meg knew exactly where she would find Christine. She slipped into an inconspicuous, dingy little door.

She cautiously tip-toed down the steps (for the darker, dimmer areas of the opera actually made her quite anxious).

She passed a couple in the hallway, and smirked to find that it was Isabelle with Ambre's so-called admirer, George. She was so intent on finding Christine, though, that she hardly gave this event recognition.

Wait… was that a voice Meg could hear? It was so familiar, though it was too faint to place…

Quickening her pace slightly, Meg entered the chapel.

"Christine… Christine?" she called softly, weakly. As was already mentioned, the dark areas of the opera held their share of scares for Meg.

She felt a shiver go down her spine. She could've sworn she heard a voice – _his _voice – speaking one last whisper. "Christine…"

There was Christine, completely serene in contrast to Meg's apprehensiveness, kneeling on the dirty chapel floor in her flowing white costume.

All smiles and rainbows, trying to ward off the darkness which the torches couldn't Meg said:

"Where on earth have you been? You were wonderful, Christine, just wonderful!" Christine smiled at her. Meg put a hand on her friend's shoulder supportively.

"You were perfect! I wish I knew how you did it!" Suddenly, her voice dropped to a conspirational tone. She didn't mean for it to go that way; she _wanted _to keep her voice even and casual.

"Who's been teaching you?"

Quite honestly, Meg had a very good idea of it, but she was curious to Christine's answer.

Christine bit her lower lip, then replied softly:

"Meg… when you're mother brought me here… I would come down here, alone, to light a candle for my father. And there was a voice, and it spoke to me from above… it spoke in my dreams, as well… When my father was on his deathbed, he promised me that an angel would be protecting me. An angel of music…"

A dreamy, almost haunting look came into Christine's eyes.

Meg could feel her goosebumps. She suddenly got the feeling that matters with this "Angel" that she and Christine shared was much more complicated; much _darker _than it appeared.

"Yes," Christine reaffirmed dreamily, "Father spoke of this angel. And I believe he is here."

"Christine, this isn't like you!" Meg exclaimed, her voice echoing in the stone chapel, small is it was. She quieted her voice.

"This… it's all some sort of fairy-tale, Christine. It – it's like you to be so dreamy, but it's not like you to make up stories like this. _It can't be true_," Somehow this was to reassure herself as much as to convince Christine.

Christine wasn't listening anymore. She got up and walked to the exit.

"He's my Angel of music," she breathed.

"Who's this Angel?" Meg scoffed, following her, "Christine, I don't believe a word of it!"

"He's here with me, right now!" She looked weak, but her eyes were bright at the thought of her Angel.

"Christine, you don't look good at all. You're pale, you're shaking!"

Suddenly, Christine looked down at the floor. She waited until Meg caught up with her.

"Christine-"

"It frightens me," she said, barely audible.

Meg softened. "Don't be frightened," she told her friend.

The two of them left, Christine casting one last glance over her shoulder before they left the corridor.


End file.
